


Unmoored

by TextualDeviance



Series: The Raven and the Dove [55]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TextualDeviance/pseuds/TextualDeviance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning after her trip to Hedeby to confront Kalf, Lagertha feels alone. She finds a friend who feels the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unmoored

**Author's Note:**

> Set during 3x05

As they rode back to Kattegat, Ragnar acting as if he couldn't hear any of the questions with which she peppered him, Lagertha felt her heart growing heavy. She was unwelcome in Hedeby, that much was clear, hence why the pack slung across her horse's back contained most of her important possessions that had remained there. Kalf at least had the decency not to steal her things, even if he had stolen her earldom. Yet even as she made her way back to Kattegat, back to the village that had been her home domain for many years after marrying Ragnar, she didn't feel as if she was coming back to a welcome home. Aslaug ruled there, not her, and though the two women had mostly put aside their differences—even sharing a bed with Ragnar one night—the sense that she was an outsider still remained. Her son, and his pregnant wife, would welcome her, and she had a few friends still, but she couldn't see where she would fit among the people there. She felt adrift, like an unmoored boat: an earl without land, a mother without a young child to tend, and a shieldmaiden without a war to fight in. For a while, she even contemplated finding a way back to Wessex, and taking up residence at the settlement. At least there, she figured, she would have a purpose: helping tend the farms and livestock; ensuring that Ragnar's dream of establishing their people in that green land would come true. An earldom it would not be, but the settlers had looked to her as a leader when she was there anyway. It was a position to which she would welcome a return.

Yet of course doing so would come with its own pitfalls. The Saxon king's likely demand that she remain his mistress, for one. The difficulty of seeing often her son and impending grandchild also. Bjorn was a man, yes, but he still sometimes needed his mother's guidance. If she were more than a few days' ride away, that would be lost. She also knew she would miss others: one in particular.

As they entered town in the early dawn, Ragnar peeling off to stable his horse at its home near the Great Hall, Lagertha took her mount down a different path. She wasn't sure whether he would be there—he often favored a walk along the shore in the mornings—but it seemed worth the stop.

The door was ajar, and the smell of meat being cooked over the small fire within wafted out.

"Athelstan?" She called at the opening. "Are you home?"

He appeared in seconds. "Lagertha! Hello! Please come in." He stood aside, taking some of her burden and striding over to a table with a pitcher of ale. "Are you thirsty? Hungry? I have plenty here if you would like to share."

"Thirsty, yes." She smiled, and took the small wooden cup he offered. His room was small, yet in ways it felt familiar to her. Many of his belongings were things he had acquired when he lived with her family so many years ago as a slave; things saved by lucky chance from being raided or destroyed by Jarl Borg's occupation. The items—clothing, trinkets, boxes and tools—were as familiar to her as her own. She sat down at the chair he offered and took a draught of ale.

"I assume Ragnar is back as well?" he asked, sitting on his bed and sipping at his own cup.

"He is. He's stabling his horse and checking on his sons. I am sure he will be along to see you himself soon." She had to smile, seeing the way Athelstan's face brightened at that news.

"How did things go in Hedeby?" he asked. "I assume not well, given that you are here instead of there."

Her jaw tightened. "I know you love my ex-husband, so I will not speak ill of him to you now. Suffice it to say that Kalf must have appeared to him more valuable as an ally than an enemy."

"Ally?" Athelstan looked confused.

She smiled sadly. "For Paris. For the raid you have planned. It is to be a great undertaking. Having more ships and warriors at hand will be useful."

"Are you not planning to join us, too?"

"I am not sure." She sighed heavily. Most of the time, she didn't really feel her years, but of late, some of the weariness and wear of age had crept up on her on occasion. She would soon be the age at which her own mother had died, succumbing to a fever brought on by an injury, though her grandmother had lived well past that point. "My shieldmaidens still wish to follow me in battle. They want to go, and many have told me they do not want to follow Kalf. I know there are women here who would want to join as well."

"Why not lead them, then?"

She shrugged. "I am not certain. Much as I am enjoying returning to my calling as a warrior, after putting it aside for so long for my children, I am not sure I feel quite the same about it as I did when I was younger. The only territory I want to fight for is my own earldom. I must say I cannot see the point in raiding Frankia, especially since we do not even know how to get there, yet."

Athelstan frowned. "So while we are in Paris, would you remain here? In Kattegat?"

She shook her head. "I could not. With my closest allies and friends on the journey to Paris, I am afraid my welcome and comfort here would be small."

Athelstan chuckled knowingly, and looked at the floor.

She cocked her head, but then understanding came to her. She rose, and sat down beside him on the bed. "You feel it, too." 

He nodded silently. "When I am with Ragnar, all is well. When I am not . . ." He looked forlorn.

She petted his arm gently. "You certainly plan to be with him in Paris, I assume?"

"Absolutely. I still see the city so clearly in my mind. I have wanted to return since the day I left it. Having my . . . having Ragnar with me this time is part of the dream." He looked up again, and smiled, covering her hand with his. "I admit that that dream includes you as well, though. I still recall seeing you fight when we were defending Kattegat against King Horik. I have rarely seen someone so well suited to their occupation. Our journey to Paris would be poorer without your presence."

She mulled this over, finally easing into a smile, and letting Athelstan squeeze her hand. "Then I shall go. There is still, however, the question of what I shall do with myself while waiting for the spring thaw. I am uninterested in fielding constant questions about Kalf and the loss of my earldom, especially from those who may mislike me still."

"Where would you go, though?" he asked. "Especially with winter coming soon."

"I have some ideas," she said. "I have old friends and a few family across the land I should visit. I am sure someone would take me in for the winter if I made myself useful to them during the harvest." She hummed thoughtfully. "I think I may also take upon myself another quest, if I am to travel."

"Oh?"

"The wanderer Ragnar mentioned knowing: I know of whom he spoke. His name is Sinric. He came to our farm one year when the children were still small, and then visited us again some five years after that, bearing stories of the lands to the west and south. He is a strange fellow, but turns an amusing tale. I do not know exactly where he may be, but I have some guesses. He likely knows of where we might find the mouth of that river you mentioned."

"The Seine? That would be wonderful!" Athelstan said, a twinkle in his eyes. "I will miss you, though. Kattegat is a lonely place for me now, and I miss having my friend here to make me smile."

"I miss you, too, Athelstan. I am so very glad that we were able to spend time together in Wessex, even if it was a bit . . . awkward sometimes."

He laughed. "It was, I fear. I apologize for that."

"No apologies needed. Not for that. Not for anything." She rose, and he followed her lead. At the door, she pulled him close for a long, warm embrace. "Farewell for now, but I will be back, I promise," she murmured into his ear, then pulled back, scanning his familiar, sweet face. "I will have a grandchild to welcome in the spring, at the very least. And when we are in Frankia, I will be glad indeed to have you by my side. I always have been, Athelstan. I always will be."  

 


End file.
